


Fake

by artematthew



Category: Kamen Rider Ghost
Genre: M/M, Non-Consensual, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Self-cest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-22 00:46:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7411858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artematthew/pseuds/artematthew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Makoto blacks out after the fight, 'someone' decides to have a little... fun.</p><p>Alternative end to Episode 37.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fake

He remembers blackness.

Well, that's not totally true. He remembers fighting, and then passing out. Fighting the thing that claimed to be him, that asked him of his surety that he was the real one.

Is he? He's not sure why he wouldn't be, but the fact that there's even a question calls it into question.

But even that question flees his mind as he feels gloved fingers caressing his face, and a familiar voice calling for him to wake up. "Wake up, 'Makoto'."

He blinks, gazing into his own face. He realizes that there's pressure on his legs - the other him is sitting on him. Three more 'Makoto's are standing nearby, watching their comrade stroke his own face. "Ah. There you are." The fake - that's what he has to be, a fake - takes off his glove, biting a finger and drawing his hand out before grabbing the wrist of it and slapping Makoto across the face with it. Makoto growls, attempting to sit up, but is quickly pinned down by one of the other fakes grabbing his wrists.

"Don't deny that you like that kind of rough treatment. We know. Of course we know." The fake leans in and tilts Makoto's head up, pressing his lips against... well, against his own. He tries to bite, tries to nip, but his jaw is grasped tightly and his lips pushed open by the other's tongue. It feels wet and slimy in his mouth, and he shudders. Finally, after what feels like far too long, the fake pulls back, displeasure on his face. "That was _awful_. You're going to have to do better than _that_..."

Makoto just glares, though the look is entirely interrupted when smooth fingers are drawn down his throat and then tighten around it. Black spots start to appear in his vision, before the fake lets go with a laugh and unzips his jacket. Makoto tries to struggle, but his wrists are still being held with a lot more strength than he has right now. He stops after a few moments, partly because both the gloved and the ungloved hands are being drawn down his chest, towards his stomach, over his shirt and then ducking under it to dance across the skin. He growls slightly, but doesn't otherwise respond. He doesn't deserve the satisfaction.

The 'fake' doesn't seem to mind, and gives up after another pass down Makoto's skin, noting the shiver he gets in response. Instead, he works his way down to Makoto's pants, tugging them and his underwear down. Makoto attempts to buck his hips and twist his legs to get the other off of him, but it's no use. A gloved hand closes around his length, and he's left gasping as the other draws his hand down. He winces at the pain from the leather, and the other stops and gestures to one of the other fakes, which tosses him a bottle of something clear. He dispenses it onto his hand and suddenly there's a slick coolness on his length, the glove still pressing against him. The feeling draws a faint choked sound from him, and he bites his lip to keep himself from making any more noise. That was _pathetic_.

The stroking continues, and he can feel himself growing harder and the groans growing more difficult to hold back, before there's cool fingers on his tip and he gasps, unable to contain himself. The other Makoto chuckles, and leans down. "You can't even withstand this... you're definitely not the real Makoto. You're too weak." His head tilts back, trying to get away from the fake - it has to be - and he closes his eyes. Like this, maybe he can pretend it's someone else's hand, someone -

"Look at me." There's a smack across his cheek with the empty glove again, and he opens his eyes and glares at the fake. "I see." The fake glances at the other one and nods. His wrists are twisted painfully, as the first one gets off Makoto's legs. He attempts to lash out, but his ankles are caught quickly and twisted so he's forced to turn over. The gloved hand cups under him, rubbing his hand against Makoto's trapped length, before it withdraws. There's the sound of more - what is that? The cool liquid being dispensed again, and the fake holding his wrists shifts so that he's pinning Makoto's hands with his knees, pressing his face down against the floor of the parking garage.

There's stillness for a few moments, before he feels the ungloved hand pressing against his asshole. He twitches, flinching away, but slowly a cool finger sinks in. He hisses at the strange feeling, but it's not… entirely bad? He just feels too full. "Of course you're tight. You'll loosen up soon, though." The gloved hand reaches down and palms him again, even as the other pushes in a second finger. Makoto's hiss turns into a whine, which raises in pitch as those fingers move and stretch him. The gloved hand makes slow circles against his heated flesh, and he tries to focus elsewhere. His hands. If he can just get them free - but then the fake shifts, pressing more weight down on them and he gasps in pain, distracting him enough that he doesn't notice a third finger being pressed in. But there's no good reaction, so the weight shifts again as the fingers are drawn out. The hand on his erection stills, and he's quiet for a moment. Everything feels like it's waiting, and then -

And then pain, as something - the other's cock? - is pushed into him. Yes, that's definitely what it is, as the fake groans and pushes into Makoto as far as he can go. "You feel good, fake..." "You're the fake!" He tries to yell, but it's muffled by his head still being pressed down against the floor. There's a brief moment of shifting, before the fake takes his hand off of Makoto's cock entirely, holding onto his hips with both hands. The other pulls back, and then slams into him, again and again - sometimes faster, sometimes slower, but always to the hilt and -

\- And it stops hurting so much after a while, but he's not sure how long it goes on for. He tries to hold back, but then there's a hand on the back of his neck squeezing, and gloved fingers at his throat coaxing the sounds out, and fingers on his cock stroking, and he's gasping and moaning and crying out and he's not sure what's going on anymore until finally he tenses and comes against the ground with a cry, the fake coming into him at the same time with a satisfied groan.

... The next bit comes in flashes, just the feeling of his jacket being zipped up, his pants being pulled up again, and a familiar voice in his ear before it all goes black again.

"You were good. We'll do this again, soon."


End file.
